Looking deeply at the damp drudgery eating the walls, I push my hand completely through, there is no sound, no one is around except the dripping twinkle of the curse, a tarnished complexity stooped in historical depth, out of focus observing a benign despair, I climb a weakened stair that crumbles to the floor below yet not a soul will miss, water trickles down the rain washed brow, I can see now, ‘tis a day that is meant to be, I can hear the shadows in thy distant pass fading away from me, yet without choice, I shall let it be.
Proud of Colour
The day I got a crow bar in my face Is the day I felt a real disgrace looking straight at fifteen Skinheads standing in my drape coat red Al...
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Glance at the phone, contacting no-one, letters unopened, see bygones be gone, lie in a darkened room, while not wanting to venture outsid...
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Deep as an arrow, wounded by thy words of bitter resentment, cut in throes of ecstasy, same toxicity, hurt on the right, tr...
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A painting in a prominent place where everyone can see it’s on a wall, set in location; forever it reminds us of the sadness, the passing,...
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